A shudder rips through me.
Calvin is increasing the house’s security. This place is safe.
Despite knowing all this, I feel anything but safe.
I want to believe that it’s not the fact that Seb’s no longer with me. I refuse to accept that in just a few days, I’ve fallen into his trap of needing him.
No.
I stand taller and throw my shoulders back.
I’m Stella fucking Doukas, and I’m not afraid of whoever this sick bastard might be. If he even exists.
I’m dressed and sitting at my vanity unit when a loud crash sounds out from somewhere beneath me and I jump from the stool, a terrified shriek ripping from my lips.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself a few seconds later when I reason with myself that it was probably just a slamming door.
Knowing that I need to do something before I drive myself completely insane, I dig around my purse for my cell. I turned it on for the first time since I left for Rosewood in the taxi on the way home and watched the thing light up with a stream of messages and missed calls. Ignoring them all, especially the ones from Seb, I open up Calli’s last message.
Calli: I’m so glad you’re home. Are you busy later?
I glance at the time it was sent. She knew we were back almost before we landed.
Of course everyone here knew.
Tapping on her name, I hit call and lift my cell to my ear.
“Stella!” she squeals down the line the second it connects.
“Are you home?” I ask, my voice cold and emotionless.
“Y-yeah, I just got in. Are you okay?”
I pause for a minute, fighting my need to just blurt it all out.
“I’m coming over right now, is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Wanna order takeout?”
My stomach clenches at the thought of food. I have no idea when I last ate anything, but I also fear that I’m not going to be able to keep anything down anyway.
Another bang from inside the house rattles through the floor, but thankfully, this time I don’t react—not loudly, anyway.
“Sounds great. I’ll be there in about thirty.”
“Okay.”
Jabbing my finger into the screen to cut off any chance of her asking if I’m okay again, I place it on the side, making quick work of braiding my still wet hair over my shoulder and rubbing some tinted moisturizer onto my face. That’s going to have to do.
Grabbing my purse, I throw it over my shoulder and head to the door to leave. I stop at the last minute, my lingering fear and unease getting the better of me.
Racing over to my sock drawer, I rummage around at the back until my hand lands on Seb’s knife.
My finger brushes down the wooden handle. The engraved CP and the wicked-looking skull beneath it make a little more sense now. This was his father’s.
Knowing that gives me some weird sense of security.
I might have sent him away, but maybe he can still protect me, even if he has no idea.